


Reflecting The Longest Wavelength

by trashcangimmick



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta Jim “Chief” Hopper, Boypussy, Consensual Sex, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mating Cycles/In-Heat, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Billy, Omega Verse, Queer Themes, Refefenced Rape/Non-con Elements, slight Breeding Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:14:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22704529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcangimmick/pseuds/trashcangimmick
Summary: Billy’s heat hits early. Jim Hopper happens to find him before anyone else does.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Billy Hargrove/Other(s)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 286





	1. Chapter 1

“You OK kid?” 

Billy pulls his collar up further against the cold and looks straight ahead. He keeps walking. The pickup truck beside him continues to crawl. 

“Hargrove? It’s freakin’ twenty degrees out. Where the hell are you going?”

_Away._ It just had to be _away._ Billy can’t really feel the temperature and that’s part of the problem. He’s still sweating. Burning up from the inside out. He didn’t find a place to stay in time and he absolutely can’t be at home. 

He decides to glance sideways. It’s the police chief. Not in uniform, not in the cruiser, but that explains why Billy recognized the voice. He’s a constant source of bewilderment and frustration for the Hawkins Police Department. An Omega that gets in fights, drives twenty miles over the speed limit, vandalizes public property, and gets hauled in for public intoxication at least a few times a month. 

Billy weighs his options. The chief is a Beta. All cops are. Makes things less messy—and it’s every bit a power complex. Might not have big knots, but they can still call the shots. Billy can see his breath fogging up. He will be in trouble if he doesn’t find somewhere to sleep. He’s got about $40 on him but the dumpy motel by the highway is a real far walk. 

Billy stops. So does the truck. 

“Can I get a ride?” He doesn’t make eye contact. Barely even faces the open window. He knows his pupils are blown and his cheeks are flushed. He probably looks like hell. 

“Hop in.”

Billy tugs the handle and takes the high step into the cab. He pulls the door shut behind him and cranks the window halfway up. He’s still so warm. The heater blasting on him is almost unbearable. They don’t start moving.

“Where’s your car?”

“Figure you of all people wouldn’t encourage driving under the influence.” Billy snorts. He’s tingling all over. The throbbing between his legs is becoming even harder to ignore now that he’s sitting down and has stopped shivering. He didn’t even realize he was shivering. 

“You’re high?”

“Matter of speaking.” Billy crosses his legs. There’s a pause. 

“Oh. _Oh_ … uh. Shit. I’ll take you home.”

“No.” Billy’s voice might crack a little. He’s gonna be a goner soon but he has to keep it together long enough to prevent that from happening. “Motel 6.”

“Hargrove, you know better than me it’s dangerous for an unaccompanied Omega in heat to be staying someplace that doesn’t even have functioning deadbolts.”

“That’s a pretty specific criticism. You at the 6 a lot, Chief?” Billy fishes out his pack of Marlboro 100’s. He doesn’t ask, he just lights one. Hopes the nicotine might ground him. 

“Yeah. At crime scenes.”

Billy shrugs. He lets out a smooth cloud of smoke. “If you try to take me back towards town, I’ll jump out.”

The chief seems to consider that for a moment. He rubs a hand over his face. Lets out a tired sigh. “There’s a payphone a little up the road. You got anyone you can call…?”

“If I did you think I’d be here?”

Another silence. Then the chief grabs the gearshift and the truck starts rolling. Billy starts to relax a little. Figures he’s won. Except then they turn off the main road and Billy’s hackles rise. 

“Where the fuck are you taking me?”

“My cabin. Got a spare room. I know you don’t know me that well, but you can call anybody you want and tell them where you are. I got a teenage daughter who’ll be around too. I’m not gonna try anything. You can just have the room for a couple nights, then I’ll take you home.”

“Just take me to the goddamn motel—“

“Listen, kid. A few months ago, I was at that place zipping an Omega even younger that you into a body bag. You don’t wanna know the other details. But it ain’t safe there.”

Billy’s poised to reach for the door handle. He’s not stupid. He's about to get raped. But that was pretty much inevitable as soon as his heat hit two weeks early. He hadn’t finalized plans to weather the storm. Billy isn’t interested in Alphas. He’s not attracted to them. Their scent repulses him. Even in a heat daze he can’t stand them. He hasn’t been able to find another Omega willing to get up to some gay shit. He usually picks from a handful of the less annoying Betas. None of them were available short notice. They don’t get heat or rut excused absences from school like Alphas and Omegas do. Tommy is on the verge of truancy from skipping for both Billy and Carol. He literally cannot miss any more school. If Billy gets out of the car, he’ll either freeze to death or get picked up by someone else looking to score. The chief at least isn’t bad looking. Seems like he showers on a somewhat regular basis. He’s not an Alpha. It could be much worse. 

Billy hopes the chief isn’t gonna kill him after it’s all said and done to keep him quiet. Even if he’s in a good position to hide a body and cover it up. Maybe if Billy’s cooperative, nobody gets hurt. Billy might actually be able to enjoy some of it once the heat’s in full swing. He usually does. 

So he slumps back in the seat. He burns through three cigarettes before they pull up in front of a small cabin that’s miles away from another living soul. 

Billy’s legs are shaky when he gets out. He’s dizzy. He doesn’t accept the hand the chief offers. He stumbles up the stairs himself and leans on the rough log wall as he waits for the door to get unlocked. He follows the chief inside. 

There’s a teenage girl curled on the couch watching MTV. She frowns a little at the spectacle. But raises her hand and offers a small wave and a _hello_ in a soft voice. 

“El, this is Billy. Max’s older brother. He’s staying here a couple days.”

“OK.”

Billy doesn’t even pause to wonder why the qualifier was added or how this kid knows Max. He just waits to be led towards a bed. He’s not gonna be able to stay standing much longer. Some of the anxiety about his situation is already starting to unravel. He can’t focus. His thoughts are muddled. 

He barely registers his surroundings. Just the firm hand on his shoulder, gently guiding him forward. Then he’s in a warm room—dimly lit by a lamp on the bedside table. There’s a twin bed. Billy slumps onto it immediately. He kicks off his boots, hears them thud to the floor then stretches out on his back. He expects to feel rough hands on him, tugging his clothes off. 

Instead he hears a door creak shut. Billy’s… alone? His vision is blurry but there’s no one on the bed with him. Nobody breathing heavy in his ear. Maybe the chief will be back once his daughter’s asleep. Maybe Billy will wake up later with a hand over his mouth, and a dick pushing into him. At that point, he’ll probably like it. 

He feels the fever spreading, over his chest, down his torso. He’s relaxed, loose, soaking wet. He struggles a little, getting out of his clothes. It feels much better naked, though. No scratchy fabric. The quilt he’s lying on is soft. 

He slowly slides a hand down between his legs, drags his fingers over the slick folds of skin. His little dick is rock hard. Just about an inch long, but that’s all he needs. He starts to jerk off, letting his cock slide between two slippery fingers. He sighs. Relishing the electric build of pleasure. He clutches at the pillow as he shudders through the first orgasm. His hips twitch. His pussy clenches around nothing. He doesn’t stop. 

It’s rare that Billy can get himself off in a bed. Even in the middle of the night, Neil always seems to smell it. He’ll barge in and call Billy a slut. Omegas shouldn’t play with themselves like dirty little animals. It’s not fair. Few things about Billy’s life are. If he’s horny, which he usually is, he masturbates in his car before school. Showers after basketball practice. Neil can’t prove anything. It’s nice to be able to spread out, fully reclined. 

With the overwhelming rush of hormones, Billy doesn’t need porn. Images flit through his head. Wet pussies. Swollen dicks and clits. He thinks about spreading out on a blanket, ocean on the horizon, waves crashing against the shore. He thinks about Caroline. A pretty Omega with bright pink hair and fantastic tits, kneeling over his head, grinding against his lips, moaning so sweet. He thinks about Sid and Walter, big dicks for Betas, kissing his neck and his mouth and touching him all over while they stuffed both his holes. He misses California. Sunshine and sea salt. Good sex with people he felt some type of way about. 

Billy slides a couple fingers in himself. Keeps rubbing his dick. He thinks about Steve Harrington, who smells like strawberries and is so painfully straight it makes Billy want to cry. He’s seen what a pretty little pussy Steve has, because he can’t help staring in the locker rooms. He usually finds Tommy after practice and rides the hell out of him because he’s too keyed up to cope. 

He wishes Tommy could talk Carol into a threeway. He wants to suck on her tits and get his tongue on her clit. She smells like flowers and clover honey. She’d probably taste amazing. 

Billy fucks himself fast. Three fingers. One orgasm rolling into the next, until he’s breathless, and his thighs are trembling, and there's a big wet spot underneath him. His fingers are pruney, and he’s so sticky all over. He doesn’t decide to take a break so much as his body decides for him. He drifts off to sleep with a hand still between his legs. 

***

Billy wakes up to someone knocking on the door. He’s a little sore. Still slick. His skin feels cold but his blood is so hot. 

“Good morning. Are you decent?”

“What?” Billy responds. Voice raspy. He’s thirsty. So goddamn thirsty. Maybe he can ask for water. Usually people will at least give him water and don’t get mad.

“I need to come in if that’s OK. I uh… I got some stuff for you. Can you get under the covers or something?”

Billy grunts. It’s a monumental effort to peel down the quilt and get underneath it. He doesn’t really understand the point. He’s just kind of in a state to do whatever he’s told. 

“OK.” 

The door opens. Billy still can’t see that clearly until the shapes get closer. The chief is in a flannel and jeans. He’s carrying a wooden tray, which he sets on the side table. 

“Wasn’t sure what you could manage. But we got orange juice, water, couple granola bars, a banana, and some apple slices. You need anything else?”

Billy just blinks. It’s so _nice_. He can’t help it. He’s purring as he reaches for the water and downs the entire glass. 

“Candy?” It’s probably too much. Oh god he doesn’t want to get in trouble. He shrinks back in the bed a little, waiting for yelling. 

Instead there’s laughter. “All right. I’ll see what we got.”

The chief disappears. Billy drinks the orange juice. Eats the banana. Realizes he’s hungry. He’s starving. He devours the apple and granola bars, trying not to get crumbs in the bed, only on the tray, he hopes it’s OK on the tray. 

Then the chief is back with a snickers bar. He holds it out. Billy takes it carefully with a weak arm. 

“Thank you, sir.” He whispers. A good Omega is polite and respectful. 

“You can call me Jim.”

“Thank you, Jim.”

Billy unwraps the candy bar and tries to eat it slowly. He knows it’s not pretty to shove food in your mouth. He should be pretty for someone who is taking such good care of him. He places the wrapper on the tray when he’s done. He will wash the dishes when he’s feeling better. 

“I’m off today. So just holler if you need anything,” Jim says. Then he picks up the tray and walks away. 

The door closes. Billy’s confused. Is Jim coming back? Billy’s heat slick is everywhere. Even a Beta must be able to smell it. Doesn’t he know Billy’s ready? More than ready? He’s aching for it. Did he do something wrong? Why hasn’t Jim taken him?

Maybe Billy should work himself up first. He slides a couple fingers in himself. Rubs his dick. He moans softly, the way that usually drives people crazy. 

He comes thinking about Jim slicing an apple. He’s still purring a little. He didn’t get scolded. He feels _safe_. Like this room could be his nest. If only he had some more pillows. He could maybe ask for them whenever Jim comes back. Maybe it would be OK. 

Billy gets off three times and the door doesn’t open. He wishes he had something bigger inside him, or someone else’s hands grabbing his hips, kissing along his collarbone. He wonders if Jim would be gentle. He’s tall, broad and heavy. Much bigger than Billy. Bigger than a lot of Alphas, even. If everything’s proportional, he must have a huge dick. But maybe he’d go slow. Billy would whimper and clutch at him. He’d relax into it, because Jim is intimidating enough to snarl and scare any competitors away. 

The bone rocking, full body shudders are exhausting. Billy’s usually sleepy during heats. If he’s not having sex he just passes out. A quiet voice in the back of his head tells him it’s because he hates being this way. It’s good to skip as much of it as possible. He doesn’t know if he agrees. He can feel himself drifting anyway. 

***

Time passes in a technicolor blur. Jim comes in with a terry cloth robe that drapes around Billy. He wraps an arm around Billy’s waist and all but carries him to the bathroom. He shuts the door and leaves Billy alone for a while. Billy does manage to pee, even if he has to grab the sink to stand up again and needs help getting back to bed. Billy guzzles more water. Jim brings him Reese’s peanut butter cups, more granola bars, more apple slices. 

Billy tries to take Jim’s hand and tug him into bed when it’s dark out. Jim doesn’t budge. 

“Sorry, kid, can't help you with that.”

“Need it,” Billy mumbles. He’s so achy. His fingers and arms are sore from jerking off so much. He just wants someone to fuck him. 

“You’ll be OK. Trust me.”

Billy knows better than to pout or press the issue. He does ask for more pillows. He falls asleep in a nice pile of softness. 

***

It’s light outside when Billy wakes up. He’s shivering. He gets under the sheets. The fever’s starting to break. The sweat and slick don’t feel as pleasant. He kind of wants to shower, but he probably can’t walk still. He’s thirsty again but he’s not going to call out and ask for anything. He feels a little more human and wants to retain what’s left of his dignity. 

God. He can’t believe he was so pathetic in front of _Jim Hopper._ It’s gonna be awkward next time Billy gets hauled into the station. Not as awkward as if Jim had fucked him. But still.

Billy isn’t insulted, exactly. Just. It’s weird, is all. Maybe Jim is monosexual. Some Betas are. Billy’s jealous. A Beta can be trisexual, or bisexual, or monsoexual and it’s all fine. But if an Omega doesn’t want to fuck an Alpha, or god forbid is mono for other Omegas, that’s too queer. 

His cock is sore, even if Billy’s still kind of horny. So he just lies there and stares at the ceiling. His vision is back to normal. So he eventually looks around the room. There’s a dresser, a bookshelf, a few pictures hanging on the walls of a little girl with blonde curly hair. The girl Billy saw in the living room was a brunette. 

Billy manages to stand for long enough to grab _One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest_ off the shelf. He’s read it before, but he still gets absorbed enough that he jumps when the door opens. 

“Good morning.” Jim steps in with the wooden tray. He’s wearing his uniform. There are eggo’s today. Along with the fruit and snack bars. “Thought you’d maybe be ready for something a little more substantial.”

“I guess.” Billy doesn’t put the book down. He turns back to it as Jim sets the tray on the table. 

“That’s one of my favorites. Read it a couple years after it came out. Movie’s pretty good too.”

“OK.”

“You must be feeling better if you’re surly again.” Jim almost sounds amused. “You’re welcome to the shower when you’re ready. Towels are fresh. I’m headed out, but I’ll give you a ride after work.”

Jim leaves. Billy eats. He reads for a while longer until he can stand up more confidently. He puts on the robe he left pooled on the floor yesterday and walks out into the living room. 

The teenage girl is sitting on the couch, eating popcorn and watching TV. Which is weird because it’s like noon on a Thursday. Billy just heads for the bathroom and takes a long, hot shower. Of course, there’s only generic shampoo and conditioner. Something about beggars and choosers, Billy uses it anyway. He feels better after he dries off. Still sore and tired, but not as much of a mess. 

He slinks back to the room. He doesn’t have a change of clothes, so he just puts on what he was wearing—minus the crusty underwear. He’s hungry again. He’s usually starving in the few days after a heat. He figures he’ll help himself to whatever’s around. 

The girl doesn’t pay him any attention as he wanders into the kitchen and starts rooting through the cupboards. Billy finds more candy. Inhales a couple snickers bars, eats some potato chips, finishes it off with a blueberry bagel smeared with excessive cream cheese. All the sugar and carbs will go right to Billy’s thighs, and he doesn’t give a fuck. He’ll work it off later, when he doesn’t want to curl up and die. 

He starts to walk towards the room again, even though it smells bad and he hates looking at all the pillows. 

“You can sit with me if you want.” The girl says.

Billy pauses. He’s not sure about that. The armchair next to the couch looks comfortable, though. So he settles down. The girl doesn’t look at him. She keeps her gaze fixed on the TV. 

“Are you feeling better? Jim said you were sick.”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Billy rubs his finger across a small hole in the chair’s upholstery. “Why aren’t you at school?”

“I don’t go to school.”

“OK… how do you know Maxine?”

“Mike.”

“The Wheeler kid?”

“Yes.”

Weird. All Maxine’s little friends are weird. Why wouldn’t she be friends with the kid who apparently belongs to Jim Hopper in some capacity. Billy didn’t know Jim had a kid. He’d never heard anything about it. Jim’s not married. Obviously. 

This girl seems… troubled. Maybe a little _special._

“Max says you’re bad. You don’t seem very bad.” The girl finally looks at him with wide brown eyes. She has a thin face and chin-length hair. She gives the overall impression of being fragile. 

“Thanks?”

“You’re welcome.” She smiles a little. “You ate almost all of my candy.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s OK. You needed it.” She blinks slowly, like a cat. “You weren’t sick. You were having the birds and the bees, right?”

Billy feels himself flush a little. “Uh. Heat. Yeah.”

“I could smell it.” She nods. “I haven’t presented yet, but Miss Joyce thinks I’m not like Jim. Because I can smell things.”

Jesus. This kid is something else. Has she ever been outside? Max knew more about this shit when she was nine years old than this girl seems to. 

“Mike is a Beta. He says he doesn’t care what I end up as.”

“Is he your boyfriend or something?”

“Yes.”

Huh. She seems way too young for that. Even if she’s maybe Max’s age. Still. Nice that the Wheeler brat isn’t vocally rooting for one thing or the other. Plenty of people don’t have that sort of decorum. When Billy was born with a pussy, he’s pretty sure there was only one thing Neil would have accepted. If Billy hadn’t presented as an Omega, he would have wound up in foster care. Because a Beta with a pussy is only good for anything if they’re a female with all the correct secondary characteristics like a pretty bone structure and big tits. At least. In Neil’s opinion. Plenty of male Betas with cunts live perfectly normal lives, just like the girls with cocks, because gender and sexual polymorphism don’t _need_ to have much to do with each other.

But whatever. Billy likes his body the way it is. He might like it better when he can choose the timing of his heats. When he turns twenty-one and legally worms his way out of Neil’s grasp, he can get on suppressants. 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” The girl blinks again. 

“No.”

“Jim doesn’t have one either.” The girl finally turns back towards the TV. “He likes Miss Joyce but she stood him up last time they were supposed to go to dinner.”

Billy isn’t sure what to do with any of this. He figures it’s best not to examine the situation too deeply. He watches MTV with this weird little girl. He ends up eating more junk food. She makes them pancakes with lots of whipped cream and syrup. Billy has coffee and adds a little whiskey. It’s not a bad afternoon. Billy’s not sure if he’s just feeling somewhat maternal because of residual heat hormones, or if this girl— _El_ —is less of a bitch than Maxine, but he doesn’t mind her. 

Jim gets back around six. While Billy and El are finishing a dinner of tater tots and ice cream. El smiles innocently. Billy keeps a blank expression. Jim just rolls his eyes and goes to his room to change and shower. Billy does the dishes. Because it’s one of those things that got drilled into him at such a young age. He also maybe fixed Jim a burger—which he left in the oven. He sets it out on the table and retreats to the spare room.

Billy makes the bed, even though the sheets are disgusting. He arranges the pillows as neatly as he can. He’s just sitting on the edge of the mattress when there’s a soft knock. 

“Come in.”

The door opens. Jim’s dressed down to jeans and a flannel once again. 

“Ready to head out?”

“Sure.”

Billy follows Jim out to the truck. He gets in and lights a cigarette. Jim flicks the radio on to some rock station. Billy stares out the window. 

Being in such close proximity to Jim is. A lot. Billy’s still hypersensitive. He can smell Jim’s aftershave and something underneath that’s dark and musky. It’s intriguing. Billy kind of wants to stick his nose in the crook of Jim’s neck and take a deep breath. 

He’s not exactly in the mood to fuck right now. He’s still halfway to offering. Seems like an appropriate display of gratitude. That’s all.

Jim doesn’t suggest it, though. Billy can’t seem to make himself say the words. So instead he stays silent until they’re back in the neighborhoods of Hawkins. They pull up on his street. Jim has the good sense to avoid Neil’s driveway. Billy unbuckles his seat belt. He’s about to get out. 

“Hold on a second.” Jim reaches into his pocket. Pulls out his wallet, then a torn slip of paper. He holds it out. Billy takes it. A phone number. “You can call me. If you need somewhere to stay again. OK, kid?”

“OK.” Billy nods. He gets out and walks up the driveway, hands shoved in his pockets. Trying to prepare for the barrage of questions about where he’s been and who he’s been with. 

At least he doesn’t smell like any Alphas. That would be hell to pay. 

Jim doesn’t drive away until Billy steps through the door. It’s an unnecessary precaution in a small town like this. But Billy kind of appreciates it. 

***

The next time Billy gets picked up for drinking at the quarry, he doesn’t get driven home in a cruiser or tossed in a cell. Instead Deputy Hirch takes him back to the station—leaving the Camaro locked and parked on the rocky beach—and brings him into Jim’s office. Jim sighs and nods at the other cop as Billy is deposited into a chair. The room is spinning a little. Billy’s face hurts. His arms hurt. His ribs hurt. He wasn’t even really causing trouble. Just sitting on the hood of his car, pounding whiskey like his life depended on it. He wasn’t blasting music. Nobody else was around. 

“So.” Jim leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. The position makes his biceps bulge a little in the tight tan fabric. 

Billy blinks. His eye is sore. Probably purple and blue at this point. That shit’s gonna linger for a while. 

“What’s the other guy look like?” Jim raises an eyebrow. 

Billy snorts and without thinking says, “he was ugly before and he’s still fucking ugly.”

“You start the fight?”

Billy twitches a little. Depends who you ask. From Billy’s perspective he was minding his own business, listening to a record in his room. Maybe he started it just by existing. 

“No,” he says after too long of a silence. 

“You had your car out there. I’m sure you don’t wanna blow into a breathalyzer right now.”

“I wasn’t driving anywhere. I was gonna sleep there.”

“At the quarry. On a Tuesday?”

“Yeah?” 

Billy’s almost drunk enough to say that sleeping in a gutter would have been better than going home. He keeps his mouth shut. All things considered, he got off easy tonight. He’s not grateful, but he’ll take it. 

Jim sighs again. He leans down and pulls his desk drawer open. He pulls out a Hershey's bar and slides it across towards Billy. 

“You want a blanket? Or some water?”

Billy doesn’t say anything. He looks at the candy bar then back up at Jim. 

“It’s OK, kid. You’ve had a rough night by the looks of it. I don’t wanna make it any rougher. You get a warning. You can sleep in a cot here if you want. Or uh… I mean, I’m headed home here soon. I could let you have the spare room again.”

Billy takes the candy bar. He’s hungry. He didn’t eat dinner. Which is also probably why he’s drunk enough to feel a little nauseous. 

He desperately wants to go back to Jim’s house. To be in that warm, safe nest. But he’s not in heat. He’s not weak. He can take care of himself.

“I wanna sleep in my car.” He says when he chucks the candy wrapper into the trash can. 

“Huh. Don’t remember offering that option.”

Billy narrows his eyes. He doesn’t really want to sleep in a cell. What’s his dignity worth when Jim’s already seen him at his most pathetic? 

“I guess you can take me back to your creepy cabin, weirdo,” Billy snorts. 

“You’re an ungrateful little shit, you know that?”

“Yeah.” 

Billy’s heard it more times than he can count. 

***

Billy gets caught speeding and let off with a warning. Then he gets picked up for trying to sleep on the front stairs of the library—because it was only a two mile walk and it’s got an awning that keeps it dry. It’s starting to get a little warmer out. Low 40’s. Billy managed to snag a blanket on his way out the window. Apparently sleeping in a public place is _loitering._ It means he ends up in Jim’s office again. 

“You know, I didn’t just give you that phone number for your heats.”

“Since when is it against the law to sleep outside? It’s like you hicks have never seen a homeless person.”

“Are you homeless Billy?”

“Not technically.”

Jim just looks at him. It makes Billy want to squirm. His bruises have healed a bit, at least the ones visible above the collar. Neil confiscated Billy’s keys a couple days ago. Billy doesn’t even remember the ostensible reason. He knows Neil only lets him have a car so there’s something to take away. It’s a Monday, and Neil has kept Billy’s door locked from the outside since Friday. Today Neil drove him to school and picked him up in an absolutely foul mood. A couple backhands before dinner and an order to go upstairs were plenty of writing on the wall to see. Billy was fucked either way. So he went to his room and down the trellis. 

Billy hasn’t gotten off since Thursday afternoon. He wanted to fuck Tommy during lunch, but the usually empty bathroom in the English hall was locked, and the one in the science hall was crowded, and the Alpha basketball team was in the gym, and the track team was out on the field which meant the bleachers were a no go, and then they were out of time. 

It’s worse, because Billy was close when the cruiser pulled up in the library parking lot. His fingers were so cold, he was just rubbing himself through his jeans. He debated going for it anyway, but then Deputy Callahan was getting out and shining a flashlight in Billy’s face and well. 

Here he is. Staring across Chief Jim Hopper’s desk, at Chief Jim Hopper’s bulky arms and broad shoulders and scruffy beard. He’s. Hot. God he’s hot and Billy hates it. He doesn’t know what to do about it. Usually he’s turned off by such masculine features. But his stupid, horny brain keeps giving him images of Jim picking him up and pinning him against a wall, or tossing him onto a bed. He keeps wondering what Jim’s hands would feel like around his hips, or throat, or ankles. He wonders what those thick, calloused fingers would feel like stuffed inside him and it’s a lot to cope with. Billy’s hard. He’s wet. He’s glad that Jim probably isn’t sensitive enough to smell it. 

“Cot or bed?” Jim asks. Billy files it away for later, out of context, use. He tries to remember the exact slightly condescending, exasperated tone, and the half smile on Jim’s lips. 

Billy wants to get fucked on Jim’s bed, or his desk, or bent over the hood of his truck, and he’s almost desperate enough to beg for it. Thankfully, he’s still got a couple brain cells left than haven't completely surrendered to his libido. 

“Bed.” His mouth is dry. 

He keeps his thighs pressed together the entire drive to Jim’s cabin. He barely closes the door to the guest room before he shoves a hand down his pants. He comes with his back pressed against the wall, imagining Jim’s tongue on his cock. He has to bite his lip to keep quiet. Then he fucks himself on three fingers, face down in the pillows, pretending it’s Jim’s cock. Billy’s a mess. He knows it. 

At least after his third orgasm, on his back, legs spread wide, three fingers pumping into his drenched cunt, rubbing his dick hard and fast—Billy calms down a little. Enough that he doesn’t try to go wake Jim up for a sleepy fuck, even if it’s a near thing. 

***

It occurs to Billy that he doesn’t need to wait until he gets arrested to drop by the station. So on a random Thursday, he shows up with a box of donuts. The dispatcher is new, so she’s sweet to him, gushing about what a nice young man he is. Callahan asks if they’re poisoned. Billy eats one with a grin on his face to prove a point, after which Callahan takes a Boston cream. Hirch grunts a _thank you_ and takes a simple glazed _._ Flo seems skeptical, but takes two of the jelly-filled ones. Everyone knows Jim likes rainbow sprinkles. So there are three left for Billy to take to his office. 

Jim looks tired, his uniform is unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up. His desk is piled with papers. He seems startled at Billy’s presence. Billy sets the donuts down in front of him and flops into the chair across from him. 

“What did you do?” Jim asks with an edge of what might be panic. 

“Nothing.” Billy shrugs. “I mean. Besides buy these for you.”

“So I’m not gonna hear about some building mysteriously burning down, or some kid getting beaten up so bad he’s in the ER?”

“Nope.”

Jim visibly relaxes. He takes a donut and bites off a full half of it. He sighs, content. It’s from Milton’s instead of the grocery store. Billy’s seen the crumpled Milton's bags in the trash before. He knows it’s what Jim prefers. 

Billy doesn’t hang around for too long. Jim’s busy. Billy does stop by again a couple weeks later. More donuts. 

“If I didn’t know better I’d think you were trying to fatten me up,” Jim laughs. 

“You’re fat enough already.” Billy smiles. He can’t be _too_ nice. 

Jim doesn’t seem to take it personally. He lets the subtext stay subtext. It’s unusual for an Omega to be the one courting someone, but when they do it’s usually food. More along the lines of like, home-cooked meals to display domestic prowess or whatever. Billy hates being in the kitchen. So. 

Maybe the lack of tickets and the standing invitation to the guest room aren’t explicit gifts like jewelry or clothing. Billy likes them better, though. It pushes some horrible, instinctual button in him that wants someone who can _provide_. Jim’s already fed him, and taken care of him, and offered him a nest. Maybe he didn’t mean to. Betas sometimes aren’t aware of that stuff. 

It’s still got Billy pretty fucked up, though, and he’ll be damned if it dead ends. 

***

Billy’s cycle is extremely irregular because of his diet, and the crazy amount he exercises, stress, and all the times he’s had to take a morning after pill over the years. He tries to plan, usually knows the general week. He’s always worried about his next heat sneaking up on him. 

Of course, it does. Early again, but at least only a couple days. Billy bolts from the house right before dinner as he starts to feel the symptoms. He walks to the gas station a mile away to use the payphone. He dials the number he memorized before Neil could go through his pockets and throw it away. 

Jim comes to pick him up. Billy can’t bear to make eye contact. He’s too hot, and anxious, and horribly aroused. He presses up against Jim as soon as he’s in the car. 

Jim doesn’t push him away, at least, even if he seems a bit startled. He lets Billy stay plastered against him the whole drive, even if he’s tense. He doesn’t try to extricate himself until they pull up into the driveway. Billy whines. He’s so wet. His skin feels too tight. He can still see clearly. He could probably walk a straight line. 

“What, you wanna stay out here?” Jim huffs, halfway between amused and annoyed. 

“Your kid’s home isn’t she?”

“Well… yeah? Thought you two got along—“

Billy can’t contain himself. He dips in and presses a kiss against Jim’s mouth. For once, the prickle of a moustache isn’t unpleasant. He feels the sharp intake of breath, the way Jim leans into it for half a moment before pulling away. 

“Woah, there.” He puts a hand on Billy’s chest, keeping him literally at arm’s length. “I get you’re all riled up. But that ain’t happening.”

“Why?” Billy knows it’s comes out a little whiny. 

“You’re basically high off your ass. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I called you. It’s a Friday. I could have called anybody.” Billy can’t help pressing his thighs together. “I called _you_.”

Jim swallows. He seems to consider that for a moment. “How far gone are you?”

“Not very. I’m fine. I want it.”

“Who’s the president? What’s six times seven? Alphabet backwards.”

“Reagan. Forty-two. Z-Y-X-W-V… do I need to keep going? I remembered your stupid phone number.”

Jim’s arm goes lax. Billy lunges in again, kissing hungry, fisting his hands in Jim’s soft shirt. Jim kisses back. He tastes like smoke and whiskey. His mouth is wide. His lips are soft. Billy’s dizzy with it. He lets out the most pathetic whimper when Jim tangles a hand in his hair and tugs him back. 

“OK. Let me at least back down the driveway a little. El absolutely doesn’t need an eyeful.”

Billy squirms but tries to be patient as Jim starts the car again and they roll backwards into the dark. He kicks off his shoes. Unzips his tight jeans and peels them off, leaving him in nothing but a pair of black cotton bikini-briefs. Jim throws the car back into park. He moves closer to the middle of the seat, away from the steering wheel. Billy climbs into his lap and there’s a soft rumble in his chest as Jim wraps those wide hands around his hips. Jim’s barely even touched him and Billy’s already purring. What a disgrace. 

Jim’s thumb rub across smooth skin, dips down under the elastic waistband of Billy’s panties. Billy presses closer. Right up against the slope of Jim’s beer belly. He can’t help grinding against it. He’s soaked through his underwear. 

“God. I can smell you.” Jim murmurs. 

His hands slide down to grab Billy’s ass. He squeezes. Billy gasps. He presses closer. Ruts against Jim just a little harder. And he’s there. Shuddering, abs clenching, moaning. 

“Christ did you just— _Jesus Christ.”_

Jim smacks Billy’s ass. It makes Billy shiver. He clings to Jim’s shoulders and keeps moving. He wants _more_ but he also can’t stop. He can feel Jim getting hard. He wants to touch. Taste. He wants everything all at once. He’ll take whatever he can get. 

One of Jim’s hands dips lower. He pushes Billy’s panties aside, traces his fingers across slick skin. 

“Yes.” Billy whines. “Please. Need it.”

A thick finger sinks into him and Billy clenches around it immediately. His breaths come out in little stuttered groans. Jim growls. Kisses Billy deep. Fucks him deeper. His fingers are long. Two of them are thicker than three of Billy’s. They feel so good. Billy rides them like a seasoned slut. Gets himself off on them, and on rubbing against Jim’s stomach, and his legs are already turning to jelly. He loses track of how many times he’s come pretty early. He’s drenched Jim’s jeans. Probably also the car seat. 

Three fingers make Billy yowl like an alley cat. He tries to muffle it in the side of Jim’s neck. He’s maybe crying a little. He can’t stop shaking. He’s too hot all over. Absolutely consumed in the hedonism of it. 

“Fuck.” Jim pulls his fingers out.

Billy’s about to complain. But then Jim scrabbles with the zipper of his jeans. He gets it open, pulls his dick out through the slit of his boxers. Billy takes the opportunity to kick off his underwear. He can barely see in the dark, but he can see enough to confirm his fantasies. He reaches down, partly to feel it, partly to help Jim line up. The head of a thick cock rubbing over Billy’s pussy lips is pure heaven. But Jim’s got a firm grip on his hips again, keeping him from sinking down. 

“You sure, kid?”

_“Gimmie.”_ Billy knows he sounds like a petulant child. He doesn’t care. 

Jim lets up. Billy slides all the way down in one motion. It’s a stretch. A big stretch. Under normal circumstances, it would probably hurt. Billy’s heat drunk and wetter than a Slip N’ Slide. Maybe later, somewhere with more lighting, Billy can show Jim how smooth he is all over. Carol helped give him a brazilian a few days ago. It hurt like hell. But now he’s glad he did it.

Billy starts to move, rocking his hips slow, savoring the stretch. He’s stuffed perfectly full. Not overwhelming, like a knot. Just right. Exactly what he wanted. He expresses that sentiment by coming again after like thirty seconds of being split open on Jim’s cock.

“Holy—” Jim grits his teeth. Digs his nails into Billy’s skin. Billy moves faster as soon as he can breathe again.

His legs burn, and the world seems to be wobbly, but Billy knows how to ride dick. He’s rarely so enthusiastic about it. He wishes he could see Jim’s face better. He settles for a sloppy kiss. Gets a little lost in it until Jim dips his thumb down and starts playing with Billy’s cock. That makes Billy shudder and gush just everywhere. He grabs the back of the seat for leverage and really starts to bounce. The slap of skin echos loud in the small space. Jim’s grunting, breathing heavy, still rubbing Billy’s cock.

“Feel so damn good,” Jim murmurs. “You’re so wet. Fuck.”

The praise makes Billy melt. It’s as good as coming. Tingles in his scalp all the way down his spine. 

“You ever had an Omega before?” Billy’s breath hitches. 

“No.”

Billy likes that. He likes it a lot. Jim is his. Billy’s never had someone to himself before. All his friends in California messed around with each other. Tommy’s got Carol. It’s all been nice. Billy’s never really gotten jealous. He’s never felt the need for possession. Except right now the idea is incredibly appealing. 

He bites Jim’s neck hard. Sucks a deep purple bruise before Jim can grunt _hey!_ and tug him away by his hair. 

“Mine.” Billy gasps. 

Jim doesn’t argue. He curses under his breath. Billy’s coming again, fluttering around Jim’s cock. His legs are so weak, he’s having trouble doing more than grinding a little with Jim all the way inside him. 

Jim grabs Billy’s ass. Starts lifting him up and letting him fall back down at a brisk pace. Billy feels like a doll. He loves being used when he’s this out of it. He’s moaning and carrying on like it’s a cheap porno. Keeps coming. He doesn’t even need his dick touched at this point. It’s just one rolling wave of pleasure. 

“You on the pill?” Jim’s voice is raw and raspy. 

“No.” Neil would never allow it. Says it’s not natural. Billy can’t get it regular enough without a prescription for it to do any good. Can’t get a prescription without parental consent. 

Billy wants Jim to come inside him. Wants it so bad, but he knows that shouldn’t happen. 

“OK. OK… fuck.”

Jim lifts Billy off him and moves him back. He grabs his cock, jerks himself off for maybe ten seconds before he’s splattering jizz all over Billy’s thighs. Billy’s a little sad at the waste. He would have liked it in his mouth. Next time. 

Billy slumps forward, nuzzling Jim’s neck, purring so loud it makes his bones vibrate. Jim rubs his hands over Billy’s back. Holds him in a loose embrace. 

“God I have no idea how we’re getting in the door without looking like a disaster.”

Billy doesn’t have any answers for that. He doesn’t want to put on clothes. He’s not sure he can walk. He’d be perfectly happy to stay right here. 

He’s less happy when Jim makes him put on pants. They’re constructive and gross. He doesn’t fuss too much, though. Because then Jim scoops him up and carries him through the front door. Billy gets to just hide his face against Jim’s chest and breathe him in. 

“El. Uh—pack an overnight bag. Now, please.” 

Billy doesn’t bother to look. He can’t see very well anyway and he can imagine the confusion on that poor girl’s face. They walk through another door and then Billy’s on a bed. It’s bigger than the one in the guest room. It’s soaked through with Jim’s scent. Billy wriggles out of his jeans immediately. Jim’s not beside him, which is upsetting. He can hear movement in the rest of the house, though. When his vision blurs, his sense of smell and hearing get much better. 

There’s a dial tone. Jim clears his throat. 

_“Steve? Thank god. Are your parents home? … And they’ll be gone till Sunday? … OK. Listen. I’ve got a bit of a situation at the cabin— … No, not like that. It’s. Uh. More of an adult situation that El shouldn’t be here for. Could you maybe take her? I’ll pay whatever you want just. Come pick her up and watch her for the weekend… Yeah, of course. I’m sure Joyce would take her for a bit too if you get tired of her… You’re a lifesaver, kid. I really owe you…_ _OK. Thanks. Bye.”_

Billy burrows down in the pillows, face pressed against the cool sheets. They get to be together until Sunday. He’s so happy. 

Jim doesn’t come back for a while. Billy’s somewhat soothed by being in Jim’s bed. He’d get under the blankets and wrap himself up if he weren’t so hot. Time’s kind of jumbled anyway. 

Someone’s walking up the front steps. A door creaks. 

_“Jesus, Hop. It reeks in here.”_ The voice is familiar. Really familiar. Steve. Steve Harrington? 

_“I don’t wanna hear it.”_

_“Who’s the lucky lady?”_

Billy can imagine the shit eating grin on Steve’s face. Billy’s smiling wider. The idea of Steve watching Jim’s kid so Billy can get fucked is just delicious. 

_“None is your goddamn business is who.”_

_“Billy.”_ El’s soft voice pipes up. 

_“Hargrove?”_ Steve’s voice ticks up half an octave, obviously taken aback. 

Billy flushes. His cock throbs. He likes the idea of people knowing. He’d strut out into the living room ass naked and try to drag Jim to bed if he could stand. 

_“It doesn’t matter. Just. Get out of here. Both of you.”_

_“Bye, Jim.”_ El chirps. 

_“Yeah. Later.”_

The door closes. Billy can feel the slick leaking out of him. He whines softly. The mattress dips. Jim traces a wide palm down Billy’s back. 

“You doing all right, kid?”

Billy lifts his head from underneath the pillows. He’s lost the capacity for full sentences. He manages to get out an intelligible word at least. “Kiss.”

It gets the point across. Jim lies down beside him, pulls him close, lets their lips brush together. Billy sighs, content. 

Heat pheromones tend to encourage more frequent, longer lasting, arousal even in Betas. Still. Billy knows Jim’s not a teenager. It might be a little bit. That’s OK. As long as Billy can stay pressed against him, feeling safe and protected, that’s all he really needs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little extra porn. As A Treat.

Billy wakes up aching. He’s so hard it hurts. It’s dark outside. Jim is snoring, sleeping on his back, too far away. Billy presses against him. Jim is wearing pants and a shirt, and that’s horrible. Billy paws at him. Making small, pathetic noises until Jim stirs. 

It’s unlikely Billy could manage a zipper or buttons at the moment. Instead he rubs Jim through his jeans. Billy can feel his cock filling out, even if Jim’s not fully awake. Billy licks Jim’s neck. Nips at it softly. Jim huffs and turns his head. 

“Did you want something?” His voice is raspy, somewhere between amused and annoyed. 

Billy just grabs Jim’s hand and puts it down between his legs. 

“Christ, you’re dripping.”

Jim sits up. He shifts down the bed, rolls Billy onto his back. Billy spreads his legs, feet flat, knees bent. He’s breathing much too fast. Doesn’t know what to hold onto. And then Jim leans down, head between Billy’s legs, and he licks. 

Billy is  _ gone _ . He clutches at the pillow. Moans way too loud as Jim kisses his dick, sloppy, letting it slide over his lips. He licks Billy’s entire pussy, tongue parting the folds, teasing all the over sensitive nerve endings, before settling in to drag across Billy’s cock in a steady rhythm. Jim squeezes Billy’s thighs, holds them apart. Billy can’t help rocking against Jim’s mouth. 

He comes fast. Jim licks it up, keeps right on going. Billy can’t breathe that well. He’s gasping, dizzy, entirely overwhelmed. His body’s reacting much more strongly to someone else’s touch than his own. But it’s like an insect bite. Scratching the itch makes it much worse. His muscles contract harder. He’s feverish, feels like an animal banging around in a cage _.  _ Wild and out of control. 

“Fuck me,” Billy gasps.

Jim groans. The vibration sets Billy off again. He grabs Jim’s hair. Tries to tug him upwards. Jim swats Billy’s hands away, but gets the message. He sits back, undresses. He reaches for the drawer on the nightstand. Billy hears the crinkle of foil. 

_ “No.”  _ Billy whines.

“Listen. Pulling out ain’t the safest thing.”

“Want it inside. Come in me.”

On some level, Billy knows that’s a stupid thing to say. It’s a thing that’s gotten him in trouble. But in the moment, he’d swear he never wanted anything so badly in his life. 

“OK… well. Shit. I got an idea.”

Jim grabs Billy and flips him over. He pulls Billy’s hips back until he’s on his knees, face down against the blanket, presenting. Billy’s so pleased. He maybe wiggles a little. 

He feels Jim’s fingers tracing over his pussy. Then he keeps going up. He rubs across Billy’s asshole. It’s already wet from slick that dribbled down. Billy’s a little confused. It still feels good. He moans when a finger sinks into him. He rocks back against it immediately. His body is flooded with hormones that make him relaxed and pliable, ready to take a knot. He has no trouble taking three of Jim’s fingers. Being full is so much better. 

Jim rubs his dick against Billy’s pussy. He sinks in, fingers still stretching Billy’s ass. Billy’s ready to combust. He comes and sees stars. Almost overstimulated, which is hard to do in a heat. Jim’s fucking him slow, murmuring praise. Telling Billy how good he is. It’s intoxicating. 

Jim withdraws. Billy’s horribly empty for a moment. Then Jim’s cock is in his ass. Billy almost screams. It’s not painful exactly. It’s just. It’s. 

Billy can’t think. Everything is sensation. Flashes of dull color behind his eyelids. Jim is gentle. The slide of him is luxurious. Billy’s legs are shaking. 

“So tight, baby.” Jim grunts. “Fit like a goddamn glove.”

Baby. Yes. Billy likes that. He wants to be that. 

Jim spreads Billy’s ass cheeks apart, squeezes them. Billy’s pussy flutters. He might be like. Wailing? It’s loud and pathetic. He squirts without Jim touching his cock.

The mattress springs creak as Jim picks up some speed. It’s not too fast. There’s a lot of power behind each movement. Billy’s back arches. His toes curl. He’s a leaky faucet at this point. It’s just a steady drip of slick onto the bed underneath him. 

It’s a struggle to move. Billy manages to get a hand between his legs. He rests his palm against his cock, slips a couple fingers into his pussy and just leaves them there. He doesn’t need to move them. Jim must be able to feel them though. He groans, starts pulling Billy back onto each thrust, fucking him even deeper. 

“You ready for it sweetheart? You want it?”

_ “Yes.”  _ Billy all but sobs. 

“Tell me.”

“Breed me.”

Jim growls. Slams into Billy a couple more times then goes still. Billy melts. The reward chemicals flood him so fast it feels like he’s just stumbled on a rock, stomach lurching a little. He can smell Jim’s come as he pulls out. Billy slumps down on his belly. He lets his fingers slide out of his pussy and tries to cover his asshole. He wants to be full for as long as possible.

“Your arm’s gonna go numb if you fall asleep like that.” Jim gives Billy a light smack on the ass. “I’ll have to get something to plug you up. Since you apparently love come.”

“Mmm.”

It’s a wonderful idea. Being able to stay sticky and sated. Jim’s right about Billy’s arm, though. So he does roll onto his back. Jim stretches out next to him, sweaty, breathing a little heavy. He kisses Billy on the cheek. The nose. Billy scrunches his face a little. The beard tickles. He doesn’t hate it. He can already feel the pull of exhaustion. Getting fucked stupid is hard work.. 

Billy’s hand will probably slip out of place once he passes out. He’ll just have to get Jim to fill him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Anything We Want' by Fiona Apple.
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](https://trashcangimmick.tumblr.com/).


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